


Drunken Escapades

by zoldnoveny



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Bro they’re gay -_-, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Witty Banter, they fuckin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 20:22:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17494718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoldnoveny/pseuds/zoldnoveny
Summary: The thing about Mello is that when he’s on, he’s on. It’s not the leather or the hair or the eyes or the body, even, it’s just him. Something about him radiates this authority - when Matt was a kid he thought Mello was scary, but that’s not really it. It’s the confidence, he thinks. Mello knows what he wants and knows how to get it.





	Drunken Escapades

**Author's Note:**

> um ok so here’s some. indecency. god i just like silly not serious sex like let’s just HAVE FUN and i feel like that’s how they would be all the time.. my boys

They’re in a club and Matt is fucked up. With all the mafia stuff, they’re in bars often. The mob controls far more than what they’d have average-joe believe, so this was their secret domain. The guys love to go out and drink with beautiful women they purchased on their arms. Usually, Mello goes to these events by himself, without Matt, but this time he was dragged along. No cheap prostitutes for Mello, so Matt supposes he’s the alternative.   
  
While the mafia men linger at the back couches, chatting with their whores, the two sneak to the bar. Music booms so loud Matt can feel the bass with each step he takes, light flashing in a way that makes him glad he‘s not epileptic. These places aren’t really his style, but Mello loves them.    
  
Mello’s not really a party animal or anything. In fact, he doesn’t really like getting drunk, anyways, because he says it gets him off his “game” - because he’s Mello and he says stuff like that. He just likes to go and dance, and wear his mesh and leather and shake his blonde head around and press his back up against Matt’s chest. That is, when Matt goes. Who knows what he does when he’s by himself? Probably the same, just with some other unsuspecting bloke. Oh, well.   
  
He drinks now. Shots of vodka, because he always has something to prove. _Look_ _at_ _me_ , he means to say as he gulps down liquor, _I’m_ _so_ _grown_ _up_! Mello has a talent for fitting himself right into whatever space he wishes, so it works. Matt just knows him well enough to see through it.    
  
Mello knocks one back and Matt sort of watches the line of his throat from the corner of his eye, Adam’s apple bobbing. Little pieces of blonde curl up against his neck, and Matt wants to brush them away and kiss him there.    
  
Matt knocks one back, too. At his side, Mello coughs discreetly into his fist. He wears these silver rings that are way more sexy than they should be, especially with the black nail polish. Matt is getting drunk, then, because he really wants to pull Mello into the bathroom.   
  
“Your top is wicked,” Compliments the bartender, who’s a young girl with dyed hair and face piercings.    
  
The top she speaks of is one of Mello’s many leather numbers, a vest that is cut at his abdomen, zipped up halfway to reveal the fishnet he wears beneath it. Matt never quite figured out where this style came from, but he’d be lying to say he didn’t dig it.   
  
“Thanks, love.” Mello says, turning on his charm like the flick of a switch, his lips curving into a clever little smile. He does that sometimes just to show Matt he can, which is fine because Matt thinks it’s funny.    
  
Bartender girl laughs and pours them more shots. Matt leans forward to grab the glass, and smoothly scoots himself closer to Mello, resting his hand on his shoulder. He smells like the fancy cologne he uses. He brushes his knee up against Matt’s, and sets a fire under his skin.    
  
They swallow down their shots. Matt wants to go home. Sliding a hand down Mello’s back, he ends up lingering over his belt. Mello’s eyes flit over, sharp as ever, obviously unaffected by the alcohol.    
  
Once the bartender goes away, Mello whispers “you wanna get a cab?” in Matt’s ear. He nods enthusiastically.   
  
The thing about Mello is that when he’s on, he’s on. It’s not the leather or the hair or the eyes or the body, even, it’s just him. Something about him radiates this authority - when Matt was a kid he thought Mello was scary, but that’s not really it. It’s the confidence, he thinks. Mello knows what he wants and knows how to get it. Of course, a lot of it is fabricated and deep down Mello is the same scared little boy he’s always been, but goddammit if he isn’t a good actor. He knows just what to say and how to walk and where to touch and when to drop the flirtations and just smile, or laugh, or kiss. In the two years when he wasn’t around, Matt slept with some guys, but none of them were quite like Mello.   
  
During the cab ride to the apartment, Mello sits so close to Matt he’s practically in his lap, and keeps running the tips of his fingers up Matt’s thigh. He doesn’t say anything, and is chatting with the cab driver in Russian, of all things, while Matt tries not to blush quite as red as his hair.   
  


They get back well past midnight. Mello pays the cab driver who shakes Mello’s hand like he’s done him some great service, and says goodbye to him in Russian and goodbye to Matt in english, even though Matt speaks the language just as fluently as Mello.

 

“How the fuck are you not shitfaced right now?” Matt asks him, deadpan, following him inside.

 

“They taught us poison control in Wammy’s, dumbass. That’s what you get for not paying attention in class,” Mello grins, looking over his shoulder. More pieces of hair have fallen from his ponytail, and his cheeks are flushed, so he’s starting to look a little disheveled. 

 

Matt thinks  _ God, I want to ruin him _ , but doesn’t say that aloud because it would just sound stupid. He’s never been suave like Mello.

 

So when they get to theirs, he just pushes Mello up against the door. It clicks locked beneath his weight as Matt melts himself into him. Mello grabs at his ass and laughs into his mouth in the impish way he does, kissing back in a quick paced fever. Matt smooths his hands down Mello’s torso just as Mello pulls him closer, crushing his fingers between their chests. Then Mello wraps an arm around Matt’s neck and tilts his head into the kiss, so everything gets slicker and easier and Mello is taking these shallow breaths while their mouths make wet little noises. Matt is so drunk. It’s really hitting him now, but Mello is so warm and nice and his body is the most familiar thing he’s ever known. Matt’s never had a house or whatever, but he can always come home to this.   
  


Mello reaches down to rub at Matt’s boner, “Think you can make it to the bed, big guy?”

 

“Aw, fuck you, man,” Matt pants, “You drank more than me.”

 

Mello bites Matt’s lip and kisses the corner of his mouth, “That’s why I’m second and you’re third.”

 

That was one of his favorite insults back in the Wammy days. Hearing it makes Matt remember being a kid, which is weird because Mello is sort of stroking him off through the fabric of his jeans. Back then, if Matt ever knew that phrase was going to be whirled at him in a drunken-horny craze - well. He didn’t know what he’d think.

 

“So, what are you implying about Near, then?” Matt teases, because he knows it’ll throw Mello off.

 

“Shut the fuck up,” He grumbles.

 

Matt laughs and drags him over to the bed. He can, in fact, make it.

 

“I’m so hard I think my dick is gonna fall off.” Matt tells him, tugging at his belt. “Must be something in the air.”

 

Mello snickers at Matt while he pulls his mesh shirt over his head - the vest was somehow already unzipped. He comes back out from under it with his hair all mussed, and reaches behind his head to let down the ponytail. Blonde falls in loose strokes around his face, and his full, pink lips fall open, still wet from kissing. Mello is just. He’s just so fucking hot. His skin is tan and golden and smooth, all lean muscle and long limbs, and he looks like something out of a magazine. Minus the scar, but Matt thinks the scar makes it even better. It’s badass as hell.

 

Matt gets his belt off, and then crawls between Mello’s splayed legs before tearing off his own shirt. He’s hardly as much of a model as Mello - his stomach is soft and skin pale and freckly, his face so-so, but Mello stares at him in a way that makes him feel like he’s being devoured. 

 

Mello slides his hands up Matt’s shoulders as Matt leans down to recapture his lips. Mello cants his hips up against Matt’s, and grips onto his biceps. They roll around a little until they’re on their sides, Matt groping at Mello’s ass while Mello traces up and down Matt’s arms. Mello’s hair gets in their mouths, so Matt gathers it in his hand and tugs on it a little, to which Mello responds with a fake moan, and they both laugh.

 

“Harder,” He says in a shrill voice, between his giggles. So maybe he is a little drunker than he let on.

 

“Dude, shut the fuck up,” Matt shushes him, then kisses him hard on the mouth. Mello slips his tongue inside and wraps his arms around Matt’s neck.

 

“Yeah, you’re gonna make me, aren’t you,” Mello mewls, jokingly.

 

Matt pulls away to start kissing down Mello’s neck. 

 

He gasps a little while Matt sucks at his pulse point, and makes a low humming noise Matt can feel vibrating against his teeth. His hands rest on Matt’s shoulders and Matt wraps his arms around his waist, licking up the curve of his throat and nipping at the edge and his jaw, kissing the spot right beneath his ear and rubbing his thigh between his legs. 

 

Mello seems to be done with the smart talk for a moment while Matt trails his lips across his skin. “That’s good,” Mello says softly. Matt bites down and soothes it with the press of his tongue, listening to Mello’s sharp intake of breath. He laughs breathily and calls Matt  _ Matty _ . Matt wonders if he does that on purpose or if it just slips out, but whenever he does, it ties his stomach up into neat plaits and makes him feel all warm and gooey inside. Mello’s seriously got him wrapped around his little finger.

 

Mello leans up to kiss him again, and wrangles them around so he’s sitting astride Matt’s lap. He hangs above him with his hair all in his face, lips pink and swollen in an especially sinful way, eyes shining quiet blue from behind a curtain of blonde. Matt drags his hands from his shoulders down his chest to his stomach, sliding around to hold onto his waist. Mello pushes the hair from his face, shakes away the remaining strands, and starts to undo the button of his jeans.

 

“The lube and stuff is in the drawer.” Matt tells him. 

 

Mello climbs off of him, stumbles over to the bedside table beside them, and starts rustling through it. While he’s gone, Matt shuffles out of his pants and props himself up against the headboard. He throws the jeans at Mello’s head but misses, and Mello turns around to flip him off.

 

Matt laughs and runs a hand over his face, Mello crawling back into bed, dropping a sleeve of condoms and bottle of lube by Matt’s elbow. He sits himself in Matt’s lap, still in his tight red jeans, and lets Matt fiddle with the zipper.

 

“Do you ever wear clothes that are actually comfortable?” Matt asks.

 

“I prefer to be in the nude, anyways.” Mello jokes, wearing his shit-eating grin. It is not his flirtatious or sexy grin. It’s the one only Matt gets to see.

 

“Yeah, well, you make it pretty difficult to get that way when you wear pants that have melted into your flesh.” 

 

Mello sits up on his heels so Matt can work the fabric down his hips.

 

“Dude. Doesn’t this hurt your dick?” Matt shakes his head up at him, giving a nice and hard tug.

 

“If I say yes, will you kiss it better?” Mello slides his hands into Matt’s hair, grabbing gentle handfuls.

 

Matt quirks his eyebrows, “Haha, very clever.” He gets Mello’s pants to his knees, and then peels off his slutty underwear. 

 

“That’s me,” Mello breathes, as Matt slides a hand up the back of his thigh to cup his ass, “Ever the wordsmith.”

 

Matt leans forward and presses his face into the groove of Mello’s hipbone, and nips at the skin of his upper thigh. Mello breathes a little heavier at that, as Matt kisses little patterns around the softness there.

 

“Matty…” He says, like a warning. 

 

Matt looks up at him, and grabs his ass with his other hand, pushing him forward to lick messy stripes close-but-not-close-enough. Mello runs his tongue across his teeth and his blinks get all fluttery. His chest expands with each inhale, and his cheeks are blushing bright red. 

 

Matt mouths at the base of his dick. Mello wets his lips with the tip of his tongue. Matt licks all the way up and runs the ball of his piercing over the groove beneath the head. Mello exhales and tightens his grip of Matt’s hair. Matt takes the tip into his mouth and laves his tongue around it, all slow, hallowing his cheeks and letting his eyes fall shut. Mello doesn’t make any noises - Matt knows he can lay it on thick and be loud and porny, but this is better. The quiet, hidden gasps. Matt swallows down more, slides back up, sucks on the head like candy, takes him down as far as he can go and glances up through his eyelashes. 

 

Now Mello’s eyes are closed, and he’s thrusting his hips just a little, clenching and unclenching his fists in Matt’s hair. He must notice Matt staring, because he opens his eyes and looks down at him, pushing the bangs from Matt’s face and smiling in a hazy, warm way.

 

“Yeah,” He says.

 

Matt thinks  _ Yeah _ in response, and moves his hands to the small of Mello’s back. He bobs his head, closes his eyes again and furrows his brow, sucks harder and goes just a little quicker. Mello whispers a drawn out  _ fuck _ in response, and at that Matt starts moving in earnest.

 

“Jesus, dude, I - don’t you wanna -  _ Matty -  _ you’re gonna make me come.” 

 

Matt pulls off, thin string of saliva hanging from his lip and Mello’s cock, and blinks up at him. Mello swears again and grabs himself to rub against Matt’s lips. It’s kinda gross, because he’s getting spit and pre-cum everywhere, but Matt’s so drunk and horny it feels hot. He sticks his tongue out and lets Mello rut up against it for a second.

 

“You’re so sexy,” Mello pants down at him, cupping his face with his other hand.

 

Matt thinks to tell Mello not to shoot his load all over his face, because no matter how lost in the moment he is, he’s not prepared to deal with that. But he doesn’t say anything. 

 

Then Mello starts laughing, and pulls back. “Take off your fucking boxers.”

 

Oh yeah. Matt wiggles out of them and throws them to the floor. He wiggles his eyebrows at Mello, who waddles further up his chest. Now his dick is  _ really _ in Matt’s face, so Matt lays back down. Then Mello presses the bottle of lube into Matt’s hand.

 

Matt pops it open and coats his fingers, grabs Mello by the thigh to steady him, and slides his middle finger in. Mello makes a scrunched up face which is quite cute, and Matt waits a second.

 

“Would you go, dumbass.” Mello orders  more than asks.

  
“Just bein’ - just fuckin’ gentlemanly, okay?” Matt mumbles, and presses in deeper, and curls against the hot slide inside of him, pumping slowly.

 

“What am I, your prom date?” Mello arches a brow down at him, and Matt snickers.

 

“I dunno, you’d be pretty bangin’ in a prom dress.” He drops his hand from Mello’s thigh and wraps it around Mello’s dick.

 

“Oh, you wanna play hetero for the night?”

 

“Yeah, sure, that’s fuckin’s - that just what I want, as I have your dick in my hand, to be straight.”

 

Mello cackles and makes Matt lose his rhythm.

 

“I’d be a terrible girl, anyways,” Mello admits, moving along with Matt as he pushes another finger in and starts stroking his dick.

 

“Very unladylike.” Matt agrees. “But a rather convincing whore.”

 

Mello laughs some more as he tells him to shut the fuck up. It’s not the most convincing argument.

 

Matt’s got three fingers inside, now, and is pumping Mello’s dick at a rather quick pace. Mello has forgotten to laugh anymore, and his face is all twisted up in pleasure, hips rolling into Matt’s touch. He bites at his lips, tears them up, and lets out a moan. His hand coasts down his chest, unsure what to do, and then shuffles into his hair to push it out of his face. 

 

“Can -  _ shit _ \- now, please.”

 

“Yes, madam.” Matt says, withdrawing his fingers and continuing to twist his fist up and down Mello’s cock for a moment. 

 

Mello shuffles back and leans his weight back on one hand, using the other to grab Matt --

 

“You’re not wearing a condom yet,” 

 

“Yeah,” Matt rests his hands on Mello’s knees, “And you’re still half in your pants.”

 

“Well,  _ take them the fuck off _ and prepare your fucking self.”

 

Matt snickers and pushes Mello onto his back to strip him out of his pants, before shoving his legs open and crawling between them. Mello rests one knee at each of Matt’s hips while Matt rolls on a condom and smooths on some lube.

 

“ _ Fuck yeah, _ ” Mello enthuses, “Fuck me.”

 

He’s kidding - not really, but he’s making a joke of it - but the words send shivers up Matt’s spine. Mello is just really fucking sexy, and he’s resting his knees on Matt’s shoulders. That isn’t new, he’s always been flexible and this  _ definitely _ isn’t the first time he’s exhibited that, but it’s just so awesome Matt wants to cry.

 

Matt scoots forward, Mello’s legs bending even further without complaint, and eases himself inside. Mello wiggles himself down further because Matt is taking his time, his mouth hanging open and cheeks a pretty shade of pink. He purses his lips and grabs at the sheets. Matt falls forward onto his hands, leaning over him. His thighs touch his chest. 

 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Matt hisses. No matter how many times he does this, it always feels the same. He doesn’t have to wait for Mello to say anything, because he knows well enough by now. He shifts his hips, acquaints himself to the situation, and begins to thrust.

 

Mello throws his head back, smooth line of his throat against the rumpled sheets. Matt picks himself back up, strokes the outside of Mello’s knee and kisses the inside. His hips roll, gradually picking up pace, until the bed begins to creak. Holding onto Mello’s thighs, looking down at his face, he feels swelling warmth in his stomach.

 

Mello is getting into it, biting his fingers and grinding against Matt, shifting his gaze from where he and Matt meet and Matt’s eyes. He’s all precisely sculpted muscle, lithe and graceful. His cock lays hard against his abdomen, and he snakes a hand down to run his fingertip along the head, like he’s teasing himself. There’s something so wickedly hot about that it sends shivers down Matt’s spine. It makes him go faster, which makes Mello wrap a palm surely around himself and close his eyes. 

 

The sound of skin slapping joins the creaking of the bed. Matt is letting out a series of groans while Mello swallows down his own. His legs fall and bend at the knee at either side of Matt’s hips, giving him leverage to lift himself into each of Matt’s thrusts. He swears, going back to biting his fingers. 

 

“You’re so fuckin’ hot, Mells.” Matt tells him, reaching over to brush the hair from his eyes. Mello nips at his fingers, before catching one and taking it into his mouth. He sucks it past the seam of his lips, wrapping his tongue around the knuckle and letting it slide obscenely down his throat. Matt swears and sticks another finger in, Mello licking between them and sucking them so hard they’ll prune. He grabs Matt’s wrist and makes intense eye contact. 

 

Matt can only hold it so long - looking straight at Mello like this for too long is a dangerous game. He doesn’t want to come too disappointingly fast.

 

Matt pulls his fingers away, spit hanging between them and Mello’s lips, and Mello gasps. He bites his lips. “Pull out for a sec’,” He orders. Matt is in no place to decline.

 

Mello rolls around onto his stomach and arches his back, resting his head on the pillow and presenting Matt with his ass. He looks back over his shoulder with a cocked eyebrow, waiting for Matt to resume.

 

“Aw, man,” Matt inhales, running his hands over Mello’s ass. He grips the flesh between his fingers and pulls at it, running his tongue across his teeth. Sweat is beginning to dampen his forehead. He can’t even believe how sexy Mello is - he always is, but the alcohol just makes it unbearable. 

 

“I don’t like waiting.” Mello says.

 

“Fuck, dude, sorry.” Matt curses. His brain is like jumbled up cables, tangled in a pile on the floor. A very familiar concept. Mello makes him short circuit. 

 

Taking him by the hips, he slides back inside Mello. Mello makes an approving noise, pressing up against him. Matt has to close his eyes for a moment.

 

He opens his eyes when he hears a wet  _ schck schck _ noise, and finds Mello with his fist between his legs, touching himself. He looks over his shoulder again, flushed and sweaty, dazed, and smiles. Then the smile melts away as his eyebrows pinch together and mouth splits into an O. His hips are rolling back rhythmically and he’s jerking himself off, moaning softly into his arm and looking right at him. Matt realizes then that he’s just… sitting there.

 

He tightens his grip on Mello’s hips, beginning to move. He slides all the way out, just barely inside, watching Mello split open for him, and plummets back inside. His and Mello’s breath catch at the same time. He watches Mello’s fingers work themselves up and down between his thighs. He thrusts again, and again, and again. Mello is making tiny  _ Uh-uh-uh  _ noises. His head is buried in the pillow now, and Matt’s kinda sad he can’t see his face.

 

He moves without thinking, rocking quickly into the slick heat. The headboard bangs obnoxiously against the wall, and Matt hopes the neighbors aren’t home. He knows Mello probably wants the exact opposite, ever the exhibitionist.

 

“ _ Fuuuck _ ” he hears himself say. His thoughts are like static, buzzing nonsensically. Sparks fly beneath his skin, his whole body thrumming like his blood had turned to lava.

 

“Faster,” Mello orders, breathless.

 

Matt complies. He holds onto Mello so hard it might bruise, slamming into him with all he’s got - drunken and disoriented, but what he has to offer. Mello is making these great sounds, muffled by the pillow. Music to Matt’s ears.

 

Sweat drips from his forehead, running down the bridge of his nose and across his top lip, beading at the gap between his collar bones. He doesn’t know if he’s being loud like Mello, but assumes he is. He was always noisier anyway.

 

Mello’s torso has collapsed completely against the mattress, only his butt in the air, like he can’t even support himself anymore. Maybe the shots have finally gotten to him. Matt tries not to think it’s him - pride is dangerous.

 

“ _ Matty _ ,” Mello keeps saying. “ _ Don’t stop _ ,” like Matt would ever do such a thing.

 

“No way,” Matt grits out. He moved his hands to Mello’s ass, pulling him apart to watch himself slide in and out. Mello stretches around him with ease. 

 

But then Mello slips from his palms, pitching forward. Matt makes a pathetic noise, but before he can protest Mello is shoving him to his back. His hands fly out to his sides, but Mello collects his wrists and pins them above his head as he climbs on top. 

 

Mello reaches behind himself and grabs Matt’s dick, holding it up so he can sink back down. He lets Matt go and gets fully seated, grabbing his own cock and jerking himself off, just to give Matt a little show. He doesn’t ever really pick himself back up, just grinds in circular gyrations. His head is thrown back, and Matt notices the way fine strands of hair have plastered to his forehead and neck with sweat.  Matt’s hands find their place on perfectly sculpted thighs, squeezing the tight muscle there. 

 

He would feel sort of pathetic, considering the fact that he’s not  _ doing anything _ , but he can’t find it in him. All he can think is that Mello looks otherworldly - like some sort of angel or demon or whatever. He thinks back on the fact that Lucifer was supposed to be indescribably beautiful in his day, but doesn’t say anything. Mello might not be as catholic as he once was, but surely, he wouldn’t deal well with being compared to the devil. 

 

“God, fuck, Mel, you don’t know what...what you do to me.” He babbles, and it’s true. There’s no way Mello could ever understand. It’s more than the sex - it’s more than anything. Mello is all there is.

 

Mello looks back down at him, and grins. It’s wicked and toothy, a little wild. “I know everything,” He says smugly, because what else would he say? He’s Mello. 

 

Matt laughs. “You’re such a bitch.”

 

“I know that too.”

 

Mello does a move that has Matt’s toes curling and his fingers digging into Mello’s sides. The rope curled up in his stomach is pulled so taut it snaps, bursts of heat shooting through him. With a shudder and a groan, he climaxes. For a couple seconds after, his vision swims around him in blurred strokes, insides tingling. Breathing comes a little harder, his chest heaving, sweat stinging his eyes. He wipes it away with the back of his hand, trying somehow to reorient himself. 

 

“Fuck,”

 

“Not done yet, champ.” Mello reminds him. 

 

Matt feels kind of lame for having come first, but he can’t help it. If Mello was sleeping with a sex god like himself, he’d understand. It’s hard to hold back, and there’s only so much a man can do.

 

Matt sits up to wrap his arms around Mello’s waist and throw him against the mattress, which makes Mello laugh as he lands. He’s still laughing, slightly, when Matt nudges a face into his neck to kiss along his throat, wrapping a hand around his dick.

 

He makes a noise and slides a hand around Matt’s bicep, anchoring him. His pulse flutters beneath Matt’s teeth, his skin hot. Matt pumps his fist quickly, twisting his wrist, urging him on. It doesn’t take much, just a few moments. Mello’s spine arches off the mattress and he gasps brokenly, before Matt’s fingers are coated with something wet.

 

With a final kiss beneath Mello’s jaw, Matt separates himself to flop against the pillows. Both of them have come to an agreement that cuddling  _ right  _ after sex is way too sweaty and sticky to be pleasant. So, they just lay their in their separate spaces, together.

 

“Fuck,” Mello summarizes.

 

“Pretty much,” Matt agrees. He glances over. “Dude, I am so wasted. I just had sex with two of you.”

 

Covering his forehead with one hand, Mello cackles. Being able to make him laugh has always been Matt’s best skill. “You’re an idiot.”

 

Matt can’t dispute that. He leans over to go fishing for his discarded pants, where his cigarettes are. Once he’s folded halfway over the bed with his jeans in hand, he realizes he’s gotten himself into a predicament.

 

“Mello.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m stuck.”

 

There’s more laughter, and then a foot at the small of Matt’s back. He should’ve known better than to expect Mello to help. He lands on the floor with a  _ thud _ while Mello just fucking cracks up. 

 

“I hate you.” He groans. He has his pack of smokes and a lighter, so he’ll get over it. 

 

Mello’s face ducks into his vision when he looks down at him, hair framing his features like a curtain. His grin is feral. “Sure you do.”

 

Lighting up with one hand, Matt uses the other to flip Mello off. Suddenly, Mello’s arm snakes down, and his fingers thread between Matt’s. It’s an oddly intimate gesture - that is, for their standards. Clearly sex is the most intimate of actions, but, you know. They’re not really a  _ holding hands _ kind of couple. It’s nice. 

 

So Matt holds Mello’s hand while he finishes his cigarette on the floor.

 

It’s been a good night.  
  



End file.
